In Devon Destri, debut author Stuart Everly-Wilson has created one of the most unforgettable characters I have been introduced to in a long time. He is both hilarious and heartless and, like many teenagers, utterly infuriating. For his own good reasons, he flies below the radar at school and hides his intelligence and insights behind a charade of being ‘hard of speaking’, which has helped to land him in the remedial class, and that suits Devon very much, thank you.

The story is set in summer in late ’70s suburban Sydney and includes a perfect cast of school bullies, neighbourhood weirdos and gossipy old ladies waiting at the bus stop.

Devon lives at home with his single mum, Tina. He gives his mum a hard time, but she is a tolerant woman who loves her boy to bits, despite the attitude he dishes out. His closest friend is Big Tammy, one of his classmates in the Spaz Gulag – Devon’s name for the portable buildings that house his class. His other friend is Hungarian neighbour, Krenek, who’s a security guard supplementing his income by his hosting of illegal poker nights, where he manages to relieve many of the local husbands and fathers of their spare cash.

Devon’s mum has a devastating secret and when Devon learns the implications of the secret and the impact on the life he has carved out for himself he feels angry. In his own words, his anger is a ‘wrathful, seething, sulphurous molten fury’. So when he sets out to take his revenge you can guarantee that it will be unforgettable too.

The author has very cleverly captured the rhythm and cadence of the language of his characters, including the slang and swearing of Devon and his friends, as well as the nuances of the first languages of the migrant characters. It is the tiny details that create such a rich experience, including descriptions of fish fingers for ‘tea’ and stealing smokes from the local milk bar corner shop. For me, the thing that sets this novel apart is the genuine care I developed as a reader for Devon.

A brilliant debut that may divide some readers, but I think it’s a cracker.

Reviewed by Maryanne Vagg